Chapter 60
Sam still isn’t home when I return to the apartment around noon.
I head straight for the bedroom and drag the large suitcase out from under the bed, open it, and start throwing his clothes inside.
Fifteen minutes later, I wheel the suitcase to the front door and leave it in the foyer; then I return to the living room and pace back and forth.
The earring is still in my pocket. I pull it out and stare down at it, lying in the palm of my hand.
My first instinct is to throw it across the room, but that would solve nothing, so I simply close my fist around it, not tightly enough to cause pain this time, and keep pacing.
When Sam finally walks through the door half an hour later, I get straight to the point.
“Don’t bother taking your coat off. I packed a suitcase for you.”
Sam comes to a startled halt in the living room doorway and stares at me in wide-eyed confusion. “Jordan? What’s going on?”
“You know very well what’s going on.”
“No, I really don’t.” Sam glances at the suitcase.
I throw the earring. It hits him in the chest and drops onto the floor. “That was on the bedroom floor next to the bed. Recognize it?”
“No.” Sam shakes his head.
“Then let me enlighten you. It’s Kalina’s.”
Sam stares at the earring. “I don’t understand.”
“You said Catherine called about a leak.” My voice cracks. “You told me that was why you were home so early, but it was a lie. Catherine didn’t call. You were screwing that woman in our bed.”
“No. I wasn’t. Catherine called. If you don’t believe me, look for yourself.” He digs the phone out of his pocket, brings up the call log, and holds it out. “See?”
I snatch the phone from his hand and look at the screen. Only one call came in on Sam’s phone yesterday. I don’t recognize the number. If Sam is to be believed, then this call was from Catherine. My finger hovers over the screen for a moment; then I call the number and put the phone on speaker.
Sam doesn’t look worried. Quite the opposite. The smug expression on his face tells me that he expects to be vindicated.
The phone rings. Once, twice, three times. Then a voice comes on the line that I recognize. But not the one Sam claimed it would be.
This is Kalina. Leave a message, and I will get right back to you.
Sam swallows hard. “What the hell?”
I push the phone back into his hand and point at the door. “Get out. I never want to see you again.”
“Jordan. Please. I swear—”
“Go!” The word erupts from somewhere deep within me, carrying with it a whirlwind of hurt and anger.
“This is ridiculous.” Sam spins on his heel, marches out of the living room and through the foyer, then pulls the front door open so hard it slams back into the wall and leaves a handle-shaped dent.
He doesn’t take the suitcase. Instead, he strides across the hallway to Kalina’s door and hammers on it with a balled-up fist. “Get out here and tell my fiancée that there’s nothing going on between us. ”
Kalina doesn’t answer, which I don’t find surprising under the circumstances.
“Answer the fucking door, right now!”
I’m not letting Sam back into the apartment. Not a chance. I take the suitcase and wheel it out into the hallway even as he brings his fist down again on Kalina’s door with a fury I’ve never seen from him before.
There’s a gasp to my left. I glance around and see our other neighbors, Frank and Jennifer, standing in their doorway and looking on in shock.
Sam finally drops his arm, and his shoulders slump in defeat.
I’ve seen enough. I retreat back into the apartment, close and lock the door, and engage the dead bolt, leaving Sam stranded on the other side. Then I lean with my back against it, sink down to the floor, pull my knees up to my chin, and cry.